


Lost and Found

by red2007



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon Related, Episode: s06e15 Arcadia, F/M, Post-Episode: s06e08 The Rain King, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red2007/pseuds/red2007
Summary: A mix-up after a case leads to a discovery and some changes for Mulder and Scully's relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suilven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suilven/gifts).



> Set in season 6, possibly canon adjacent depending on your interpretation of season 6 and 7. 
> 
> My prompt was brilliant from suilven who asked for: Mulder to accidentally find something of Scully's that makes him suspect she just might feel the same way about him as he does about her. He uses the discovery - whatever it is - to finally find the courage to make a move. Bonus points if what he finds isn't a diary/note/card.
> 
> Unbeta'd, beware. Also these characters aren't mine, I own nothing. But if I did. . .
> 
> Audio version available from Audio Fanfic Podcast [here](https://soundcloud.com/audiofanficpod/sets/xf-lost-and-found-by-red2007)

Scully picked up a folded pile of clothes and squeezed them into her travel bag as Mulder came out of the bathroom, toiletry bag in hand. “Do we have everything?” He asked, slipping the leather pouch into his own bag and then slinging it over his shoulder. She did a last survey of the room as he pocketed his wallet and placed their room keys on the counter.

“Looks like it.” She leaned over and checked along the side of the bed flipping the blanket as she went, things always seemed to slip down there. She heard Mulder grab the keys for the rental car and drape his suit jacket over his arm.

“I’ll go get us checked out and meet you at the car.” By the time she’d righted herself he was already out of the shabby room into the gorgeous Kansas sunshine headed for the office. She turned and spent an inordinate amount of time looking out the window at the perfect puffs of marshmallow white clouds that littered the crystal clear blue sky. You’d never know there was a near monsoon less than 14 hours before and Scully felt her arms unconsciously folding and her brow furrowing in exasperation. She couldn’t deny Holman had some sort of an effect on the weather—she just couldn’t explain it with any logic or reason. There was absolutely no scientific basis for a human’s emotions being able to manifest or influence meteorological patterns. It felt supernatural, if she even believed in that sort of thing. Lost in thought she heard a knock on the window to see Mulder marveling at her stance and expression with a full grin. He gave a gentle wave and tossed his bag in the trunk and his jacket in the back seat. She shook to clear her errant thoughts and pulled the zipper on her bag, lifting the strap over her shoulder. When she pulled it from the bed, she could see heather gray peeking out from where she’d moved back the blanket. She gave a little laugh, setting her bag back down. She took the soft cotton shirt and tucked it in the side of her bag, perturbed as staccato horn bursts filled the room. She groaned, securing Mulder’s shirt in the side pocket of her bag and making for the door. He truly drove her mad sometimes and here she was, cleaning up his mess. Again. She opened the door, glanced back and looked the room up and down once more before confidently pulling the door shut and turning toward her partner.

The confidence vanished once she caught sight of Mulder. He was leaned up against the car, sunglasses on, sleeves rolled up with his hands in his pockets. His tie was just looser than regulation and his head was tilted back basking in the warmth of the sun that they had hardly seen in days. His face was a reflection of peace, every chiseled curve in sharp contrast to the blue backdrop that she could swear was crafted just to showcase his beauty. Scully rarely afforded herself time to appreciate Mulders attractiveness. As she walked towards him, regulating her breathing, she hoped he hadn’t caught the tension in her step and the heat that she’s certain was obvious in her eyes.

The closer she got her attention shifted from the alarming male specimen to balancing the distance between his body and the car parked next to their rental and the awkward obviousness of walking the long ways around the car to avoid contact. She decided to brave it and sensing her closeness he shifted his stance to allow her more room to pass. She maneuvered her body and the bag as best she could, their chests whispering passed one another, her head down to hide her slight blush and his eyes boring into her like he could will her to make eye contact and shift the scope of their relationship with just a glance. The both heard collective exhales once she’d passed him, quickly depositing her bag and closing the trunk. She could physically feel her taut muscles relax as she moved around the car to the passenger side. Like the distance was offering her reprieve after spending the last 8 hours sharing a room—a bed. They both climbed wordlessly into the car and pulled away.

“Can you believe this weather?” Mulder asked incredulously a few minutes later, breaking a comfortable silence. He could hear the eye roll that accompanied her gentle scoff and a full grin spread across his face. He knew this would be one of those unexplained cases that wouldn’t let her go.

“Of course not.” She rested her head back and rolled over to glance at him, a lopsided smile beginning. “You know I can’t even begin to make sense of this. There’s no science in the universe that can explain a connection between a man’s emotions and meteorological patterns, and I’d say it’s impossible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” Their eyes met for a moment. “Honestly part of me still doesn’t believe it.”

“What can you say, Scully? Love makes people do unbelievable things sometimes.” She heard a bit of earnest in his response and took to teasing him.

“Like control the weather?” Scully couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you speaking from experience, Mulder? When’s the last time love made you do something unbelievable?” She had every intention to keep the conversation light, but her question was met with absolute silence. Mulder sat stiffly, his eyes staring far away at the road ahead but all he could see was sheets of white snow. He knew exactly the last time love had driven him to do something wholly unimaginable. As the car came to a stop and the last light before the airport his gaze shifted in her direction, their eyes meeting and he watched her breath halt. His hazel eyes were so tender but still guarded, revealing just enough to quicken her heart and encourage her to change the subject. “What exactly will you write in your report?”

Later that night after he’d dropped her at her place, she took her bag to her bedroom to unpack. After unpacking, locking up, and a quick shower the tee shirt, haphazardly tucked in the outer pocket caught her eye and she pulled it out. She held it for a moment before sighing deeply and climbing up onto her bed. She studied the simple piece of clothing with her eyes while she ran her hands over the seams, the softness of the cotton and eventually brought it up to breathe in the scent of Mulder that permeated the fabric. She’d unintentionally woken that morning with her head pressed up against the shirt, an arm draped around it, using its owner as a pillow. She thought about the shy apologetic smiles they’d shared realizing their positions and releasing each other to begin their individual packing routines.

She took another deep breath of the shirt’s aroma wondering if there would ever be an appropriate time for them to discuss their feelings. She knew the lengths he went to to save her in Antarctica, knew the financial and physical burden he bore chasing her to the bottom of the earth on a rescue mission. She also knew why he’d spared no expense or thought to his own wellbeing. Knew without need for confirmation, without a physical or verbal affirmation, without deep declarations. She knew because if it was necessary, she’d go to the very same lengths to save him.

She silently stripped off her silk pajama top and pulled the shirt over her head in its place and then climbed into her bed. _He won’t miss it_ ; was the last thought she had before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Mulder dropped his excessive luggage down in his bedroom with a sigh, physically exhausted from the flight and their most recent case. What started out as a cozy undercover assignment with he and his partner in pseudo domestic bliss had turned into a grotesque and deadly mess. There wasn’t a powerful enough shower in the world to make him feel clean and relaxed enough. He’d showered that night at the hotel, again in the morning before their flight back to DC, the entire outfit he’d worn had been bagged and hopefully burned. Even the shoes. He looked around at the various federally funded suitcases thinking that if he had actually liked the clothes his alter ego had worn it would more than make up for the loss of his favorite jeans and sweater.

He made it through the two bigger suitcases, sorting through pastel colored polo shirts and more khaki than he’d ever owned in his life, creating a pile for laundry and one for donation. There were a few of his own mixed in but he and Scully had both used their standard overnight bags for the personal items they’d been allowed to take. He hefted the uniformly issued black bag onto his bed and unzipped the top to reveal a silk robe and a nude lace bra laying against clothes that were clearly not his. His eyes grew and he felt a little like he was intruding. Knowing he wasn’t going to find anything different he unzipped one of the side pockets, possibly expecting it to miraculously contain his toothbrush and toothpaste but instead he found an endless supply of lotions and creams. He spun the bag around and looked at the back-left corner which, sure enough didn’t have a crescent shaped tear on it from a bell hops cart from their recent trip to Florida.

He leaned back on the balls of his feet and crossed his arms, debating. His bag had all his toiletries, clothes, a book he’d started on the plane about an unexplained and unclassifiable animal thought to reside in a forest in Montana, and notes for their case. None of which he technically needed right away, but he was sure there was some mystical moisturizer or product that Scully would be needing sooner rather than later. Not to mention he thought he’d seen her laptop tucked in there. He flipped the top open again, taking a breath like he was bravely embarking on the unknown and shifted a stack of clothes aside to reveal her silver computer. He knew she’d need it soon; Scully was always a go-getter when it came to her reports, but he knew she’d gone right to bed when they’d finally stopped the night before. After unpacking and then ordering herself some take out, she’d settle down with a glass of wine and her laptop to write her best scientific explanation of the last few days. That settled it, he’d have to make a trip to Georgetown. He released the clothes he’d moved aside looking for the computer but stopped when he his fingers and eyes simultaneously landed on a very familiar item. He felt the soft cotton; it was the softest shirt he’d ever owned. Gripping it with his right hand he held the stack it was under in place so to not disturb her immaculate packing job and he pulled it out and held it up before him. He hadn’t seen this shirt for months, at least. He sat back on the edge of the bed trying to remember the last time he’d worn it. He remembered wearing it on their failed trip into the desert of Nevada when he’d gotten a bogus tip about Area 51, but he’d worn it home.

No, the last time he’d seen this he’d ended up wearing it to sleep after the near miss with the cow in Kansas. It’d been the one of the few items of his clothing that hadn’t been soaked from the hole in the roof. He'd loved it so much that he'd purchased a replacement just a few weeks earlier. He realized he must have left it behind in their shared hotel room, which meant that Scully had kept it for months. His brain was scattered trying to process this information. Did she take it intentionally or did she grab it and forget to give it back? If she took it intentionally, was there any possibility it wasn’t for the reasons he assumed. And he’d seen her everyday for the last two months since then, why had she still not returned it? Clearly whether it was purposeful or not she’d laid claim to it. The thought ramped up his heart rate and he felt absolutely delighted at this knowledge. Not only had she claimed it and kept it, but she’d packed it amongst her personal items for a case they were working, insinuating that it held deep sentimental value to her. They’d been in California nearly a week, living in close quarters in the same house but she’d not returned it and still packed it in carefully, purposefully meaning to take it back home with her.

The shirt was incredibly comfortable, it was possible that she just really liked it. It was also entirely possible that maybe she wanted to keep something of his. Like an old college girlfriend who stole her boyfriends’ clothes because they smelled like him and she wanted it around because he couldn’t be.

It could be that because they had this unspoken and incredibly complex relationship the shirt was simply the scraps of him that she could allow herself. A way for her to take comfort without acknowledging why she wanted to.

He gently refolded the shirt and laid it front and center over the robe, the bra. He smoothed it with his hands, a small and resolved smile on his face. He wanted her to have it. He’d give just about anything of his to bring her comfort, this was a small sacrifice and eventually he knew the payoff would be infinite. She’d see the misplaced shirt; she’d know that he knew—and their dance would continue.


	3. Chapter 3

A short time later a relaxed Scully answered the door, revealing a worn pair of flannel pants and a V-necked tee shirt telling him she was winding down and that his timing was perfect. Her face shown confusion, especially when she saw the bag on his shoulder.

“Mulder?” She stepped back a few steps allowing him to enter, closing the door behind him. “Please don’t tell me we have another case; I haven’t even unpacked from the last one yet.” She took a few steps away turning back towards him waiting for an explanation for his peculiar arrival. He felt a little relief that she hadn’t unpacked but he just offered her a smile and shake of his head.

“No, I think after what we just went through, we’ll have at least a mandatory 72 hours of desk duty as a reprieve.” A quick glance down the hallway confirmed that she had in fact not taken the time to unpack, her suitcases stacked neatly up against the wall just inside her bedroom door. “If you’re about to unpack, I think you’ll find you’re missing something.” He gestured at the bag by wiggling his shoulder a little and he didn’t miss the tiniest bit of panic that crossed her face. He was quite the study in Dana Scully, he didn’t miss much, and he fought back a smile. She turned, puzzled and headed down the hall for her room. Mulder stood suspended for a moment, he felt like it was appropriate to follow her, but he didn’t want to break stride in the tenuous game he was about to play. Even so he walked slowly after her and found her inspecting the back of his travel bag, sticking a finger in the small tear that usually served as an identifier on cases out of town. She dropped the bag down on the bed and he placed hers right next to it.

“I’m actually amazed this hasn’t happened sooner,” she joked unzipping the pocket with her facial cleanser and lotions and carried them into the bathroom. Mulder, not wanting to be around when she opened the main compartment grabbed the strap of his bag and started for the door. He turned and ran right into Scully, her foot catching on his and threatening to send her straight to the floor. His hands immediately went to her waist to steady her, her arms gripped his forearms and their eyes slowly met. Moments like this, though rare, were like living water—dripping with heat. Moments when everything is written in their eyes and they know just how easy it would be to allow themselves to slip into a relationship. When she’s just inches from him, breathing slightly labored, eyes itching so badly to look at his lips, trying not to bite her own lip as his warm, firm hands grasp where her shirt had slipped in the collision.

“You okay?” His voice was a whisper and she felt it in the small hairs by her ear, he was so close, and she couldn’t help feeling how unfair the whole universe was that something so simple was so replete with electricity. This thought, however served to help ground her. She gave a quick nod, took a deep breath and stepped back steadily.

“Are you leaving?” She asked, walking around him to the bed, an extra foot between them for good measure. He nervously eyed the bag as her hands were reaching for the zipper.

“Uh, yeah,” his words were far away, and he avoided her eyes as he watched her start to open the bag. He’d never make it out the door and the prospect of the awkwardness he was headed for compelled him to change directions. They couldn’t avoid this forever. “I was,” he replied, dropping his bag to the floor and leaning back against the doorframe as he watched her open the bag to reveal his shirt proudly resting atop the rest of her clothes. Neither of them moved for almost a full minute. He leaned, arms crossed, a carefully infinitesimal smile crept across his lips while she stood rooted with her hands resting on the edges of the bag, her eyes plastered to the sight of the shirt before her.

She couldn’t decide how to respond, and she suddenly understood his initial rush to leave—he’d hoped to leave without this confrontation. He had wanted her to know that he knew and preserve their carefully crafted avoidance of the issue. But his bag was on the floor and though she wouldn’t dare chancing a glance in his direction she could feel him watching her reaction, waiting. He knew she’d kept his shirt for herself since Kansas. He knew that she took it with her when they went out of town. He knew that she just wanted whatever piece of him she could keep with her and he wanted her to have it. Years of buried and carefully avoided desire and affection simmered in the air between them, neither of them had planned for this.

She heard him shift a moment before she heard his voice, “what do you want, Scully?” His voice was even, low, and incredibly vulnerable; he was giving her a choice. He was taking slow, measured steps toward her and she felt like they were teetering on a precipice. When he reached her side, he turned and leaned on the edge of the bed, one hand bracing himself and the other reached to softly touch her chin, bringing her eyes to his. Her breathing was ragged, her heart pounding.

With borrowed clarity her blue eyes met his hazel ones and with a sigh she answered, “I want this to be simple and uncomplicated.” His hand left her chin and took one of her hands in his, dipping his head in agreement.

“Could it still be worth it if it’s not?”

The question was heavy, laden with professional obligations and dangers both seen and unseen. It carried implications of secrecy, strict self-control, uncompromising priorities. It also promised an outlet never before utilized, comfort deeper than they’d allowed themselves, satisfaction only dreamed about. The thought caused a slight blush to rise in her cheeks and she twined their fingers together, turning her body just a fraction to bring her more in line with his. He took this as encouragement and he reached up with his left hand, tucking a strand of short hair behind her ear and then running the backs of his fingers down her flawless jawline.

“Can we be careful?” She was asking if he could reign it in, remain professional, avoid letting it interfere in their work. She was asking if they could carve out a private place for themselves to explore the feelings they’d danced around for years without letting it complicate their partnership and he knew exactly because they were finely attuned in all things. He had a sneaking suspicion that their understanding and attention to each other would pay off greatly in other areas as well, a blush of his own creeping up his neck to match hers. There would be time for that.

“We can,” he assured her, moving both of his hands to her hips and positioning her in front of him. He felt like his heart was going to explode from his chest with anticipation. She brought a hand up and rested it softly over his heart, regulating her breathing as best as she could. He leaned his head towards hers, lightly resting their foreheads together—a familiar gesture bringing an ounce of peace against the tumult and expectation. He lifted a hand again, two fingertips applying just enough pressure to her chin to bring her lips so closely to his. “Are you sure,” he asked softly enough to be a whisper and the hand on his chest slid up to the back of his neck, fingers combing through the short, cropped hair they met there. Her eyes met his in a silent promise and then slid closed when she pulled his head the rest of the way. Their lips touched, soft and yielding with mouths partially opened though neither made a move to deepen the kiss. It was sweet, simple—innocent. When they parted just for a moment, he brought both his hands up to frame her face, thumbs worshipping her cheekbones in a slow caress. They simultaneously angled their heads and pulled the other right back, diving off the precipice and into the unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> It feels like there could be more but I'm calling it complete. If I do go back and add little bits I'll tweet it out to the universe.


End file.
